


Sway

by scrapbullet



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sometimes you read the most absolute drivel, Charles.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call Austen ‘drivel’.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

“Sometimes you read the most absolute drivel, Charles.”

“I wouldn’t call Austen ‘drivel’.”

Erik cocks a brow. Even in repose he’s poised for action; a tautness to his limbs that cannot be denied. It makes him look somewhat uncomfortable, here, in the archaic comfort of the study, an old, embroidered cushion mashed under his elbow, open book on his lap.

 _The Art of War_ , but of course; he’d expect nothing less from a man such as Erik.

And yet; it’s farcical. Beneath the tilt of his lips lies discontent, and no doubt the tome of choice, though intended as a distraction, is anything but.

Setting aside _Northanger Abbey_ Charles ingratiates himself into Erik’s space, throwing a leg over Erik’s lap and disregarding Sun Tzu with obvious relish. Erik scowls, looks irritable, and Charles laughs.

“Now then,” here, tucked under Erik’s arm, it’s warm. Oddly enough, it’s also quite comfortable. “There’s something on your mind. Do tell.”

There’s a pause wherein that impressive scowl deepens, if only for a moment.

Charles glimpses it regardless.

“I haven’t been snooping around in your thoughts, Erik; it’s written all over your face.” Funny, how much little trust they have in him. Denying his telepathic heritage would be akin to suffocating himself; it comes to him as easy as breathing.

But, his loved ones desire privacy. Charles keeps his word.

Though, sometimes... sometimes the thoughts are a terrible din, and he really can’t help himself.

If Erik is surprised he doesn’t show it. Instead he hooks a finger underneath Charles’ chin and tilts it up – and Charles is no stranger to this, the blatantly primal act of baring his throat – and with a tenderness not often shown, kisses him square on the mouth.

Suffice to say, it’s not what Charles was expecting.

It isn’t the most attractive of kisses. There’s too much teeth, for a start, nipping at lips until they bruise, and Charles huffs whilst Erik laughs, no doubt satisfied. Past that, within, and Erik’s tongue is a teasing slip-slide that soothes flesh bitten red, and when they part Charles blinks, dazed.

“Ah, I see.”

Erik hums, amused. “Speechless, Charles? That makes a change.”

“Yes, well.” Charles clears his throat, licking the last vestiges of saliva from his lips. His hands appear to be trembling, he notes, and beneath the torrent is the near overwhelming crash of _lustdesireaffection_.

Erik’s eyes darken, heady with want. “Well _what_?”

Charles closes his eyes, and succumbs.


End file.
